A Ballad Of Bullets
by psychoticpsychic
Summary: Frank and Joe hadn't seen each other for a long time. When they do, one of Frank's agents is killed and Joe is the chief suspect. With an arms deal that could through a whole nation into state of insecurity hanging in the balance, will the Hardys be able to work together like old times and save themselves and the rest of the world?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Awesomeness has been personified. (no, not me….okay maybe me too) Here's presenting the Hardys some years into the future. Oh and, I don't really know how American Intelligence and Law Enforcement and stuff works except what I know from movies. So excuse the factual errors and enjoy the plot. And if the agency doesn't even exist…..screw that, it's my story, so maybe I made it up. And I can't really have the Hardys working for the RAW.**

**Just a little heads up, only the beginning is present day. The next part starts three months back and then I'll work my way through the story to the present situation.**

_**Chapter 1**_

**Present Day, Unknown location **

"Where, exactly is this traitor, Armand?" asked David Belov, Russian crime lord and king of underground arms deals, in a clipped British accent.

"It's him. Your right hand man. The blond."

"Are you suggesting, my secretary, Joseph Gordon is the mole?"

"He works for the USDOD."

"You are saying Joseph is with Defence Intelligence, _da_? And you have proof against him?"

Armand was fumbling about his pocket and pulled a crumpled ball of paper. It was torn off a bigger piece of paper. He produced it in front of Belov.

"You expect me to believe this?"

The piece was the top half of a page, sealed by the DIA and had a picture of Joseph Gordon. The text next to it was all smudged and undecipherable. The first half of his name was visible under the photograph, which looked a lot like a mug shot.

Belov sighed.

"Armand you are still young."

Armand did not understand what that meant.

"So I'll make this easier for you and me. I will call Joseph here and see what he has to say. Then I'll make Elena check your facts, his facts and see who is right. And remember the person who is wrong will not see the light of-"

Belov didn't even finish before Elena walked in, a bunch of her huge, muscular henchmen following her, dragging a beaten up version of the aforementioned Joseph Gordon. His blond hair was sticking out in all angles; his blue eyes betrayed no fear.

"My, my, what's this I see here?" asked Belov moving closer.

"He was caught in your office, trying to open your accounts," said Elena cold and mercilessly.

"And what's to make you think I hadn't asked him to?"

"We have Intel that's he's a spy. The one who leaked out the location for last week's exchange."

"Is he now?" Belov tilted his head and examined Joseph. "Are you?"

He didn't reply.

"ARE YOU?" he yelled and punched his nose. Joseph coughed and sputtered blood, but didn't say a word.

"Now, how am I supposed to interpret that? Is your silence your acceptance or your denial?"

Joseph still didn't find it necessary to talk.

"You will look at me when I talk, _mahlcheek._"

He looked up.

"Now tell me, did you leak out the location of last week's exchange to the cops? To Hansen, perhaps? She's your boss, _da_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," mumbled Joseph.

"You are one of my finest men. I've had three people tell me you're a spy. And you, supposedly, don't even know what I'm talking about," said Belov, turning and facing away from Joseph and Elena.

"Who to believe? Who not to believe?" he talked, almost sang, to himself. He turned again, such that he was facing Joseph, Elena and Armand.

"I'll let my gun decide," he said playfully, fixed it on his target at point blanc range and shot. The gunshot echoed in the silence that followed.

**Three months back, FBI office, New York City**

Frank Hardy stared his coffee, thinking about the case at hand. One of his men was shot and killed during an arms deal with a Russian, a certain David Belov. And the poor guy didn't even have anything to do with it; nor did the FBI. Belov was somehow getting information about developments in weaponry and defense from the Pentagon and was now using it to make his own weapons. Until then, the DIA was supposedly looking into Belov and didn't want any interference from them. But now it was almost personal. The FBI was not even aware of the deal, and had ended up losing an agent. So Frank and his team of law enforcement agents were now digging up as much as they could about Belov and his men.

Suddenly, his phone rang. It was his fiancée Callie.

"Did you call your parents?"

"Yes, Callie, I spoke to them."

"And Joe?"

No reply from Frank.

"Frank! When was the last time you both even spoke to each other?"

"I'm pretty sure he was there at Aunt Trudy's barbeque party."

Callie sighed. "That was a year and a half ago. Do you even know where he is now?"

"We're all busy, Callie! I have my job to look after and he has his. And besides, I'm he has better things to do than go to his big brother's Christmas party," said Frank.

"Are you jealous of him? You better not be. I'm pretty sure he misses all of you. He's not that bad that he'd walk out of your lives just like that."

"Okay, firstly, no, I am not jealous of my younger brother. Secondly, no, Joe would never do that. I'm pretty sure he's caught up in lots of work and didn't get time to call me."

"Or maybe he's waiting for you to call him. You know, Frank-"

"Sir, we found something on Belov's men. You might want to see this," said Agent Morgan, interrupting Frank and Callie's conversation.

"Okay, Callie, I'll call you back later," he said and went out to the control room, lit up by the large screens, all currently filled with information on Belov and his associates. The man was exceptionally good in his field of work; except for the picture on the database along with the Most Wanted list, there wasn't even a decent photograph of him. Neither was it easy to get pictures of him or his assistants.

Morgan put up a whole lot text on the screen and began explaining what they'd found out. Long story short, they believed it was a man named Joseph Gordon who was in charge of the arms deal that went south. He was practically Belov's right hand and one of his most trusted men. The guy was also a trained assassin and a specialist in weapons.

"Luiz is working on tracking him, sir- he's using all available cameras and stuff."

"Very well. Now tell me, does anyone have any ideas as to how we can catch this Gordon person?"

"Sir, we'd need a good visual on him first-" began Morgan only to be interrupted by Luiz shouting "Got it!"

Everyone turned towards him now.

"I got this off a camera at the entrance of a bank. All the facts point out that he's Gordon and I'm trying to run his face through Facial Recognition to see if he's struck anywhere else using another name," explained Luiz.

"Show me the picture," said Frank coldy. "I want to see the man who killed one of my best agents."

There was silence except for the whir of the computers as everyone waited to see what Joseph Gordon looked like. Luiz tapped a key and the picture came up. Gordon was a man of about six feet in height and a muscular build. He had blonde hair and was wearing a pair of expensive sun glasses. He was one the phone with someone and the picture was a very flattering one, dressed as he was in a sharp grey suit..

Someone let out a low whistle. "That suit of his costs probably more than my entire savings," said someone.

"He looks pretty handsome for a criminal," said Kerry Malone, a behavioral analyst. "I wouldn't mind-"

"Shhh," Frank cut her off. The corners of his mouth pulled into a slight smile. "That's no criminal. That, agents, is my brother Lieutenant Commander Joseph Hardy."

**AN: _da _is Russian for yes and _mahlcheek _is how you say boy. In case you don't know,**

**USDOD- United States Department of Defense**

**DIA- Defense Intelligence Agency**

**FBI- Federal Bureau of Investigation **

**So, I know a lot of people don't like Frank and Callie together. Honestly, I don't care- I'm a Joe-girl. And worry not, there shall be more Joe in the following chapters.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hello my loyal comrades. I am back.**

***No intended copyright infringement to My Chemical Romance.**

**Oh and remember this is all in the past. Like I said- I'll work my way to the introduction I gave (which is happening presently.) Basically, I'll let you know if and when there is a change in the time period.**

_**Chapter 2**_

"Na na na na na na na na na na na…"* Joe Hardy sang under his breath as he parked his cherry red Chevy Camaro zl1 in front of Brent and Gardner, which was a _law firm. _The ground floor and the reception area looked just like that of a law firm and they even employed three actual lawyers in case someone actually brought a case.

But once inside, Brent and Gardner was just a cover for the covert operations division of the Defence Intelligence in New York. As he stepped into Ops Control, the 'awesome room with the cool screens and James Bond computers', Joe had to face Colonel Judith Hansen, head of Operations.

"Hardy!" she yelled.

"_Da?" _ he said politely.

"I said _Hardy _not Gordon. What is your status on the Belov case?"

"Call you that merely a case? I have been working my ass off for the past two years and-"

"Lieutenant Commander Hardy, I asked you for the status."

"Okay, look for the umpteenth time- we're good. He believes that Joseph Gordon was dishonourably discharged from the Marine Corps for um, _violent behaviour _ and wants to get his revenge. So he trusts me, maybe more than that Elena girl, and I have been his faithful secretary and practically his right hand for the past year and a half," explained Joe. "On second thought, that's left hand. He's left-handed."

"Then why did you call for a meeting? Are you aware of the danger if anyone sees you come in here?" asked Noel Callahan, the head of Intelligence Analysts in the office and Joe Hardy's right hand man when he was not undercover.

"Look, I have been telling you when I pass on some intel, be subtle with it," said Joe.

"Desperate times call for-"

"Desperate measures, yes, I know colonel but you have to consider my situation. Every alternate time he makes a deal if his men get caught, he will be suspicious. He _is _suspicious. And I happen to be the only person who knows about each and every deal of his. So every time you go barging in and kill some of his men and his clientele, I want to remind you _my_ neck is on the line here. Can you not try something else?" asked Joe.

"Like what?" asked Callahan.

"Oh I don't know. For starters, don't barge in in the middle of an exchange. Track the clients and get them later."

"And what of Belov's men, Hardy?" asked Hansen.

Joe was irritated. He lowered his voice. Anyone who'd known him would know this is a clear danger sign. "_I told you I am dealing with them."_

With her voice just as low and threatening, Hansen asked him back, "_Then why do I see no visible change in his dealings?"_

"Um, actually-" began Callahan. He really didn't like it when Hardy and Hansen began using their Batman voices. Last time both of them did that, mysteriously Hansen's house 'collapsed due to structural imbalances' and Hardy's car blew up.

"WHAT?" exploded Hansen. In the game of keeping your cool and yet imposing a threat, no one could beat Joe Hardy.

"Although there is no visible change in _Belov's _dealings, the underground arms exchange rates in New York and New Jersey have dropped by an effective 15 percent since Lt. Commander Hardy has been working with David Belov."

Hansen glared at both of them.

"If and when we have information about a trade, it is only logical that we take immediate action. I am not going to change the way this office works just so you can get your peaceful beauty sleep in Belov's Russian mansion, Hardy."

"Maybe you'll have to when the Pentagon hears how you lost an undercover agent when his cover was compromised because of the 'way this office works.' "

With that, Joe Hardy stormed out of Ops Control. No longer was he Joe Hardy- once again he stepped back into the shoes of Joseph Gordon and pulled on his shades and walked out of Brent and Gardner as if he was unsatisfied with a case they had handled.

As he started his car and pulled off, unknown to him, Frank Hardy watched him from behind the glass of a building opposite Brent and Gardner.

* * *

"Ah, Joseph I was just wondering where you were," said David Belov who was eating his lunch in a posh restaurant. "Have you delivered the package to Lucky?"

"I was going to tell you about that. When I went there, Lucky was dead. Two taps to the chest. Neat, I must say, whoever did it," said Joseph.

In fact, that was not what had happened. The truth was more like this:

_Lucky, as he called himself, was sitting behind the cash counter at his store- an exclusive store that sold only Harry Potter merchandise. How a Harry Potter geek had ended up moonlighting as a dirty weapons trader- no one knew. But one thing that any one Tom, Dick and _Harry_ could guess was that Lucky knew anything and everything about Harry Potter. He worshipped the series and even had a so-called wand for himself._

_Joe walked into the store. "The Elder Wand," he said._

"_Very well, come in," said Lucky recognizing the key word and David Belov's secretary. He opened a door behind where he sat and Joe followed. Just as he stepped into the storage room of the store, two people jumped him from either side._

_Joe had expected this. Lucky was comfortably seated on a shelf ready to watch his henchmen 'beat the Patronus' out of Joseph Gordon. Even before the guy on his right could attack, Joe struck out with his elbow and hit the guy's nose. That knocked him out cold. The thug on Joe's left punched him the gut. Joe pretended to double over in pain. Overjoyed with his triumph the guy didn't even notice as Joe landed his fist square on his face. The guy retaliated and struck back. Joe too didn't hold it back- he hit the man left and right._

_Seeing how his man was losing Lucky, from his seat on a shelf, began throwing Sorting Hats at Joe. After landing a few satisfying punches more, Joe held up his arms. "Whoa, wait, hold on!"_

_Both, Lucky and his thug stopped. _

"_Avada Kedavra!" said Joe, pulling out his SIG Sauer P226 and with the speed of lightning he shot Lucky twice. Still clutching his wand, Lucky slid down the shelf. The thug who was standing next to Joe was staring at him open-mouthed. _

"_You want one too?" asked Joe politely lifting his gun._

"_N-n-no." said the guy._

"_Then run. And oh remember, I was never here. Got that?"_

_The guy ran out screaming like a kid. Before he could leave the shop, Joe found a fake owl in cage on a shelf next to him and with perfect aim, threw it at the running guy's head. "A little amnesia would help… Rookies," he chuckled. They hadn't even searched him for weapons._

"That's okay. Not a big loss. Let's just say Lucky was some, _collateral damage _in the long run," said Belov.

"Yeah," mumbled Joe and sat down to eat.

Elena was there. Wretched little Elena.

"Are you sure you didn't just lose your cool and shoot him? You're pretty hotheaded you know," she said in her irritating Russian accent. Why couldn't all Russians speak decent English like Belov?

"Maybe you could give me some ice chipped off your heart."

"What makes you think I even have one?"

"How about that little ugly pink cat of yours? What do you call it? Ah, yes Marishka."

"Now, now," interrupted Belov. Elena sighed and stuck her tongue out Joe. He returned the compliment by making some rude gestures.

"You think I don't know your little secret, Joseph?" asked Elena menacingly.

**AN: Tell me what you think. Oh and I have nothing against Russians. **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Okay, I know it's been like six months since I updated last, but in my defense- I don't have a plot! Just a beginning and an ending. So I'm just filling it in as I go. I know there may be lots, **_**lots **_**of factual errors… So here's a suggestion- just picture that this whole thing does not take place in US/Russia/anywhere but in this imaginary little place in my head that's, very similar to the real world. This takes place two weeks after the previous chapter. Oh and slytheringirl123, yep, I do best under pressure. Let's go flunk math on Monday.**

* * *

_**Chapter 3**_

Joe's patented smirk-that's-really-just-mistaken-for-a-smile disappeared for a brief moment before it was back.

"You've got nothing on me, Elena," he said, almost spitting out the last word. He didn't want to be there while Elena went on and on about how _she _was the only one who was a source of reliable intel, blah blah blah… For the first time in his life, that day, two weeks back, Joe willingly sacrificed a delicious lunch and walked out of the restaurant.

Presently, he was just wondering about the turn of events in the past two years. Gosh how he missed his friends and family from Bayport. There he was, a happy LT CDR in the navy, when some top dog from the DOD picked him off because of his 'experienced background' with _The Network, _slapped him with an official secrets document and handed him a new name and a Sig. Wow.

After six months of training him, making him a deadly assassin, he was sent undercover to Belov. And without, even realizing Joe Hardy was slowly being sucked into the life of Joseph Gordon. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone what he did. He did suspect that his father knew. Of course, all his life Joe had seen Fenton as his all-knowing, all-powerful role model. What bothered him the most was that his job was making his relationship with his brother fall apart. Last time they met, about a year and a half ago, which was also the last time Joe went to his parent's house on Elm Street, he had provoked Frank and quarreled with him, over some 'trust issues'.

Truth was, if Frank knew that Joe was hiding something, which he eventually would have found out had they been in contact, he would go to the ends of the earth to find out. David Belov, his associates and his rivals were dangerous men. Joe didn't want to endanger Frank. Little did he know that Frank was already part of this cat-and-mouse game of epic proportions which had spanned out over the past couple of years.

Getting into his newest 'baby', Joe drove off to this abandoned warehouse where he was supposed to meet some dirty NYPD detective, who wanted to help Belov break one of his men from prison. How he planned to do that, God alone knew. Sighing, Joe headed there anyway.

* * *

Frank was sitting behind his desk going through all the possibilities, the same ones he had been going through over and over again for the past couple of weeks. How in the world did his blonde little brother end up some Russian criminal's right hand man? How can someone who helped you rid the world of criminals every now then, end up becoming one? He had to talk to Joe. Screw the who'll-call-first match. One of his men was killed, and Frank somehow knew that wasn't the end of it. He hoped against hope that his brother was not the person behind this, while all evidence suggested otherwise.

Just as he was reaching for his phone to call Joe, his phone rang.

"Hardy."

"Dude, you are so turning into a suit." Chet Morton was into a new hobby now. Although years had rolled, Chet was still the same. His latest muse was coming up with sarcastic nicknames for people or using already existing ones on those who least deserved it; the term 'suit' in this instance referring generally to the average federal agent portrayed on TV.

"Fine, I apologize. Now why did you call?" Frank was exactly in the best of temperaments right now.

"You, me, Biff and Tony. The new zombie movie. Tonight. "

"Tonight? Chet, I'm not so sure-"

"The hell you're not. Frank Hardy, you _will _come for this movie with us. First it was Joe. Now you're avoiding us too."

"Chet, buddy, it's not like that. I'm really tied up with something here."

"Does it have to be one some Head of Suits' desk tomorrow?" demanded Chet.

"Um, not really. It's more of something I'm doing for-"

"Excellent. I will see at nine ate the movies."

Frank sighed as Chet hung up. Maybe it was time he took a break. Maybe then he'd get some genius brainwave.

Just then Agent Morgan stuck his head into Frank's office.

"New intel?"

"Yeah. Luiz intercepted this call from some NYPD officer about a possible meeting with Gordon," said Morgan as he and Frank walked into the control room with its usual whirring computers and lit LCD monitors.

After twenty minutes of discussion it was decided that Frank and five others with him would be in and around the warehouse where this meeting was supposed to take place.

"And we will have a long, _long _talk, Joe," said Frank.

"Um, Hardy, I wouldn't be too hopeful. I mean it might not even be your brother. I um, made Kerry do some research on him. He's supposedly still serving in-"

"Morgan, do you really think I can't recognize my own brother?"

"It could be a look-alike," muttered Morgan. "A look-_very -_alike."

Frank gave _him _a look which he hoped he didn't like.

"Did you know, that according to this south Indian belief, there are seven people in the world of similar form," said Luiz, trying to help. He was your typical computer geek with a tonne of pointless facts buried in his brain. Every team had one of those.

"Look guys, I'm ninety-eight percent sure that's my brother," said Frank.

"And the other two percent?" asked Morgan.

Frank let the question hang in the air, like an omen of something to come. If this Gordon person wasn't Joe, okay bad judgment. But if he was, then Frank was scared if his kid brother had grown up. Grown up into someone who made illegal weapons deals and killed innocent people.

"Well, you guys might want to move your behinds. You have two hours till our dirty cop meets Gordon," said Luiz.

* * *

"Very well, Noel," said Colonel Hansen, Defense Intelligence, "Since Hardy came and made his moving speech keeping his neck on the line, I don't want you to make any advances on this McCreary guy." Of course, the time and place of this meeting had been relayed to Hansen, in methods best known to Joe Hardy and Noel Callahan. Hansen continued, "Just find out whatever they decide and how he plans to break Tsarev out of prison." Noel nodded and left with Lt. Thomas. Joe had described Thomas by saying she was the best thing that happened to Hansen and the worst thing that had happened to Callahan. Noel actually agreed. She did know to kick ass, after first trapping he prey with her long black hair and dark eyes. He didn't know what Hardy saw in her. Most probably the fact that she always played hard-to-get.

* * *

At exactly 3:00 PM, Joseph Gordon was at the assigned location. There was no sign of Detective McCreary yet. Joe leaned on his car and waited. He had time. He knew Callahan and Thomas were somewhere around. He didn't want to look for them and endanger them, if there were unwanted eyes around the place.

The warehouse was pretty big. It was very dusty and littered with old metal junk that no one used, or knew how to use. Behind one such piece of 'metal junk', unknown to Joe was crouched his older brother and his partner Morgan. Unknown to _them,_ behind another obsolete machine were Callahan and Thomas. They were there before Frank and Morgan, and had seen FBI agents enter.

"Bloody feds," Thomas had muttered in her British accent. Though American by birth and nationality, she had spent a good few years in London. Callahan had signaled her to keep quiet and risked a peek from behind the big machine.

"They're on the other side," he whispered.

"What the hell are they doing here?"

"I dunno, let's not risk Hardy's ass by trying to find out."

"You think they know about this whole mess?"

"Okay, lieutenant," whispered Callahan, "firstly, this is not a mess. Secondly, we'll see if they make a move on Hardy. If they do, then we'll take the required action. For all we know, they're probably here because of something to with our corrupt cop McCreary."

Presently both the FBI agents and Joe's back up from Defense Intelligence were well hidden and comfortably positioned to see what was happening in the warehouse.

The rumble of an engine announced the arrival of Detective McCreary, who decided to leave his car outside. He walked in to the warehouse greeting Joseph Gordon with his version of a smile. The detective was a heavy-set man, not very tall, with a slick black hair.

"Detective McCreary," greeted Joe.

"Gordon," grunted McCreary.

"I hear tell that you want to liberate one of my comrades, Isaac Tsarev."

McCreary grunted.

"So I take you have a plan in mind?"

Grunt.

"This would be more fruitful if you could actually respond."

"What's in it for me?" asked McCreary finally deciding to speak.

"I think we should see if you can actually accomplish something before we go on to rewards and such. So tell me, detective, how exactly you plan to break Tsarev out of prison."

McCreary just looked at him. All that McCreary knew was that he had to break Isaac Tsarev, convicted for illegal possessions of weapons, assault and manslaughter, out of prison and that Joseph Gordon was the guy he was dealing with.

Detective McCreary was as impatient person. Today someone from his office had told on him, and now he was suspended from active duty while the concerned authorities 'looked into the matter'. He was in dire need of cash and desperately hoped that Gordon didn't know that he was suspended. The anger pent up in him from the entire day's events suddenly showed its ugly face and McCreary pulled out his gun (his not very legal one) and put it to Gordon's head, and forced the younger man against his car.

"Oooh, someone's not happy," started Joe in a low voice. "Did someone find out your dirty little secret? Coming after your family, are they? Because let me tell you buddy, if no one is then I will. You lay a finger on me and I will hurt them- your pretty little daughter, your pregnant wife-"

McCreary held the gun tighter to his head.

"You think you can get away with this?" continued Joe, not losing his cool for even a second. "Let me put it this way. You _need _me to help you and your family with my money, but I don't _need _you. I can have another twenty dirty cops ready to work for me, if not you. _Da? _So think of it detective, or rather, soon-to-be _former _detective."

Now there was a heavy silence. Frank was panicking, his little-brother-protection instincts buzzing. The only sounds he heard were that of Joe and that slime ball McCreary breathing.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Positioned as they were, Callahan and Thomas could see Joe with that confident smirk on his face, even with a gun pointed at his head. The guy was a smooth operator. He could sell you your own nice old Aunty Charlotte for 'half the price and double the benefit' if he wanted to.

On the opposite side, Frank and his partner could not see this. All Frank knew was that McCreary had a gun pointed at Joe and would fire anytime. Panicking, he stood up and fired at McCreary, who was taken by surprise. Joe, in this brief window of opportunity, scrambled out of McCreary's grip and pointed his gun at his assailant. He had the shock of his life when he saw Frank on the other side, shouting "Federal Agents! Drop you weapon!". He didn't let it show though.

McCreary pulled out another gun and fired left and right aimlessly in the general direction of both the Hardys. Seeing all that was taking place, Lt. Thomas was going to fire at McCreary when Callahan said urgently, "Tania, wait. Remember we have a plan!" The sudden use of her first name made Thomas actually listen to him.

"Shit, yeah, the plan." Hansen and Joe had earlier made a plan of action for emergency situations like this.

Meanwhile, McCreary had nearly run out of bullets and not even one of them had hit either of his targets. Frank and Morgan fired at McCreary, who fired at Joseph Gordon, who fired back at McCreary. The end result of this crossfire was a thrice-killed McCreary and Joe with a shoulder wound that was bleeding.

Morgan went to check if McCreary was really dead while Frank headed to Joe. Just then, Callahan and Thomas pointed their guns at Joe and went, "Joseph Gordon! You are under arrest…" Going with the plan.

Joe punched his car in 'anger' as Thomas handcuffed him and Callahan went to talk to Frank. Joe didn't even throw a second glance towards Frank. He knew he couldn't. He didn't want to blow his cover and endanger his brother. He just walked with Thomas out of the warehouse saying, with his famous grin, "You got nothing on me."

"I'm Lt. Callahan, with defense intelligence and this man is dead," he nodded towards McCreary, "and that man is under arrest for suspected relations to another very wanted man. And I take you guys are the FBI?"

"Yeah," said Morgan speaking up, "I'm agent Morgan and this is my partner Agent Hardy."

Hardy? A number of questions arose in Callahan's mind, which he saved for Joe.

Morgan continued. "So we got information, that guy Joseph Gordon was responsible for killing one of our guys and this afternoon we intercepted a call from this detective-"

"McCreary," filled in Callahan.

"-and we came here."

"Pleasure meeting you, agents. I'll be going now. I have a man to question," Callahan abruptly breaking off and leaving the Feds to clean their mess. This would have gone smoothly if they hadn't shown up and interfered. Now McCreary was dead and chances were, Joe's cover was blown and that would stop the entire operation on Belov.

Morgan just stared at his back, while Frank was still wondering why Joe hadn't even looked at him. Maybe it wasn't Joe. Maybe this was what he was now. He hadn't come home for a while and hadn't been in touch with anyone. Maybe this was why. Frank was facing a huge wall of maybe's. Maybe he'd go watch the movie with Chet and the rest of the guys, anyway.

* * *

**AN: So, excuse any typos and tell me what you think… And also, you may not have to wait another six months for the next chapter. This was the longest chapter I've ever typed for any story and no animals were harmed in its making, except maybe me with permanent finger damage from typing so much.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: For my friends who do care, slytheringirl123 and I did nearly 'flunk math on Monday'. Really, do we need such advanced math? I say we don't. But it's not like people listen to fifteen year old delinquents anymore. For all you other 'friends', I'm bringing the action home, ladies…**

* * *

_**Chapter 4**_

Okay, so the meeting with McCreary was, _not very successful._ And yeah, he _might have _just blown his cover. But Joe Hardy told himself he was awesome. It took him all his will power not to turn back and look at Frank while Thomas had handcuffed and was leading him out. He hoped against hope that his brother hadn't recognized him, but that would be like praying for Clark Kent not to be Superman or Hannibal not to be a cannibal.

He was riding in the back of Noel's car, with Noel himself driving and Lt. Thomas in the passenger seat.

"Do you think your cover's blown?" asked Tania.

"Nah. They'll probably think McCreary called the Feds."

"How does that explain our dead cop?"

"Feds' problem."

"Yeah, about the Feds," continued Noel, "that guy said his partner's name was Hardy."

"Ah, dear ole Frank."

"Is he related to you?" asked Tania.

"Yeah. He's my brother," Joe.

"He's your- whoa. I didn't know your brother was an FBI Agent," said Noel.

"I didn't know you had a brother," said Tania.

In the next two minutes, Joe told him about him and Frank, how they used to help their dad, and about their own cases, and how they parted ways when he enlisted in the navy and Frank 'became a suit'. He tried to look at Tania through the rearview mirror. She looked, he thought, 'kind of impressed.'

"If you're dying to know whether I'm impressed, Hardy, let me tell you this- I'll be impressed when you successfully bring down this Belov guy. So do tell me, how are you going to 'escape' custody?" challenged Tania.

"My escort will be here soon enough. And Noel, buddy, sorry about the car. Ask Hansen to pay," said Joe coolly.

"Sorry why?" he was confused. "Pay for what?"

Tania was shaking her head and grinning, hands on her gun. In about thirty seconds, on the deserted road, a blue van pulled up behind the car and a volley of shots was fired. While Noel tried to steer the car properly and Tania shot at the van, Joe tried to look as prisoner-like as possible. The driver of the van nudged the speeding car from the back, and with a screeching noise, it hit a nearby lamppost and came to a jolting halt. Two men in ski masks got out of the van (which now had a much dented front bumper) and yanked open the back doors of Lt. Callahan's car. Pointing theirs sub machine guns at Tania and Noel, the slowly helped Joe out of the car and into the van.

Leaving Tania and Noel with a sad excuse for an automobile, they pulled off. Thus, Joseph Gordon had 'escaped' custody with the help of two accomplices, 'terrorizing' the agents who were supposed to bring him in.

* * *

Frank was staring at the huge screen in the movie theatre. He had gone back to headquarters after that unsuccessful interception of a possible deal between Joseph Gordon and James McCreary. There, he'd been told off by his superiors for acting too fast, an unprepared something something something. Frank didn't really listen. He was still reeling from the shock of seeing his brother.

By the end of that highly eventful day, Frank was, firstly, told that the death of his agent was a careless accident where the man was coincidentally caught in the crossfire between some Defense Intelligence agents and a Russian crime lord; secondly, asked to stay off and close the case; and thirdly, doubting everything he believed about his brother.

While Chet, Biff and Tony were enjoying the movie, Frank was deep in thought. Joe couldn't possibly be working for law enforcement or anything, otherwise he'd have told him. Frank remembered that one case, his and Joe's last one together.

_Ed Tyler, the conman whom Frank and Joe had finally caught up to in Boston, realizing his that his game of lies and scams was coming to an end, pulled out his gun. Joe was somewhere in the next room, fighting off the conman's muscular bodyguard. Tyler pointed his gun, right at Frank and fired. Frank steeled himself for what was coming and closed his eyes_. _He heard the shot. When he opened his eyes, what hit him hurt more than the bullet._

_Joe had somehow jumped in the way. As he fell backwards, almost in slow motion, Frank caught him._

_The blood. The tears. The pain. The endless wait in the hospital. The weeks of recovery…._

People called Joe a coward for leaving the business. Frank called him smart, smart enough to value his life. After that, Joe had made a full recovery. After finishing his studies, he had enlisted in the Navy. Since then, Frank had begun to see less and less of Joe, until at some point, the two of them had practically no contact with each other. Was this what Joe had taken to? Joe, who once swore that he would never have anything to do with 'all this crime-fighting jazz'…. Had he strayed off somewhere along the way, and turned into Joseph Gordon?

Breaking his chain of thoughts, Frank's phone buzzed.

"Yeah?" he whispered into it, seeing Morgan's name in the caller ID.

"I have news you might want to hear," said Morgan. Frank had asked him and Luiz to keep an eye on Joseph Gordon, completely off the record, of course. "A few hours ago, our guy Joe had a bunch of his goons shoot at those to lieutenants while being driven to their head office and escaped.

Frank sighed. "Anything else?" he whispered even softer as Tony signalled him to keep quiet.

"Yeah, two more guys who were known to have rivalries with David Belov have been found dead in the last one hour." Then, knowing his partner well, Morgan continued, "Look man, don't go looking for trouble. If he is your brother, and anything like how you describe him, he'll come to you…" Anything to stop Frank from going behind Gordon, because he knew it would only be trouble.

"He would have come to me by now if he wanted to come," said Frank as he got up to leave, halfway through the movie.

"Come on, man!" whispered Biff as Frank was leaving.

"Sorry," he mouthed at them.

* * *

"That bloody little rat has run away," said Belov, as if he was talking about his actual pet rat running away. "Run away, with my money and my bomb. Filthy _terrorist _scum. Thinks he can just get away from me. You can run, Sayeed, but you cannot hide from me."

Had the said 'Sayeed' been in the room, he would surely have broken a sweat.

"Armand is tracking him down," said Joe.

"He better. Why does he think I pay him?"

Joe chose not to answer that.

The money that the self-proclaimed terrorist had run off with was about a hundred thousand American dollars, which Belov could have replaced by merely snapping his fingers. The bomb, codenamed 'Nina' by Belov, however, was not so easy to reproduce. To put it nicely, it wasn't very big but went boom. To state facts, it could blow off one-third of a city.

After twenty minutes of expletives and swear words from Belov and impatient feet tapping from Joe, Armand came into the lavishly furnished room.

"Well?"

"I had put one of my own, hand-made trackers on Nina, which works by-"

"I do not need a description of your genius, Armand."

"Okay so basically I tracked him all the way to London. But there, I think he found the tracker and ripped it off," seeing Belov's facial expressions, Armand continued faster, "but, you see, we put a drop phone on Sayeed when he was having dinner with you, sir, which I'm still trying to find the location of. And also, as you know sir, Nina will not sing her song unless she is appreciated."

"You talk about it like it's a real person," mumbled Joe. He loathed the very thing, just the size of a large suitcase, capable of causing so much death and destruction.

"Shh, Joseph, let _him _sing _his _song," said Belov.

"The bomb is programmed to operate only if it activated with this, sir" he said, handing over a plastic card to Belov. Joe stared at it. Something that looked so innocent, like a credit card, just a little rectangle of plastic, which would be able to wipe off one third of a city.

"This stays with me, but still, Joseph, you will go with Viktor and Alexei to bring Nina back from wherever she is."

Joe nodded grimly. Just then Armand's phone beeped.

"Ah, we have a location on Sayeed," and he showed it to Belov and Joe, who got ready that night, to leave the very next day. He also had to inform Hansen, who would send lieutenants Thomas and Callahan.

That night, at Ops Control in 'Brent and Gardner', the _law firm _which wascovert operations division of the Defence Intelligence in New York, Lt. Thomas put up the co-ordinates sent from Joe on the computer screen.

12.9833° N, 77.5833° E

"Where is it?" asked a tired and sleep Noel Callahan.

"Bangalore, India"

* * *

**AN: Do not make me coerce you to review. I assure you, I have my methods.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN 1: I know, I know… "Dude you had two months of summer vacation and its only a week after school reopens that you finally get off your arse to put up a new chapter." Despicable. Oh and little heads-up, don't mix up the time thing. Its very confusing (I know, it's like Inception ;D)When I say one week ago, I mean one week before the events in the first chapter.**

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_

"Okay, you gotta find me an, um, hold on, MG Road," said Joe Hardy from Bangalore over the phone to Noel Callahan, who was in New York.

"M-G-Road," mumbled Noel as he typed it in. While his computer searched, Noel spoke to Joe. "Um, Kerry's here."

"Good. Ask her why she didn't warn us that Frank was onto us." Kerry Malone was a 'wall-hanging' as Joe liked to say. She was everywhere, not paid great attention to, yet at the core of everything. For the last six months she had been working with the FBI, as well as helping Joe and his team. She was a 'consultant'. She was, however, really inconspicuous. No one really noticed her presence or absence. This was, in fact, her advantage. It was only the previous night that Joe, Noel and Tania realized that she had been, in fact, working alongside Frank for a while.

"She says it slipped her mind."

"Really? _It slipped her mind _that the person she's helping investigate with one team, is the person she's working with on the other team?"

Noel got the feeling that Joe wasn't exactly in a good mood right now. He didn't want to leave Kerry in the way of Joe's temper. She had come as fast as she could when she realized that Frank was on their tail. Just then his search results popped up on his screen. Noel's eyes widened as he took in what he saw.

"Um, Joe does it say MG Road in which town?" asked Noel, referring to a text message Joe found on Sayeed's phone. As soon as he found the phone in the abandoned hotel room, Joe had sent Armand, who had come with him to Bangalore, to find Sayeed and get rid of him.

"Nope, it just says MG Road. Why what's wrong?" asked Joe.

"See, here's the thing. Every city in India has an MG Road."

"You're kidding."

"No. You'll have to take a leap of faith and try the one in Bangalore."

Joe grunted and hung up.

* * *

**24 hours later**

The trip to MG Road had proved useful, though not in the way that Joe had expected. The man who had bought the bomb from Sayeed had planned to smuggle it China. The fool, however, went around carrying the suitcase with him, and got caught, of all places, at a McDonald's. What happened was that an important politician was passing, and the police were securing the area, when Joe shouted "Bomb!" and pointed at the man, seated inside the McDonald's, enjoying his Happy Meal. The local authorities had taken care of him. Just as they had arrested him and were unceremoniously dumping him to the back of their police jeep, one of the authorities caught sight of Joe.

If he got caught, it would be an international incident. So Joe went forward to talk to the guy. The man introduced himself as Ranvir Mehra, an operative of the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW), the Indian intelligence. He said he had been tailing Sayeed and was, actually, glad to find him dead that afternoon. Joe explained that he too had come for the Sayeed and the bomb. He told Mehra how he worked undercover for David Belov.

After some paperwork and a whole lot of phone calls to all the Indian Authorities, Joe was now in his hotel room, trying to come with a story to tell Belov and his people how he had lost the bomb.

Little did Joe know that Armand had seen him at MG Road and that he had been jealous of Joseph Gordon all along. Now he had caught Gordon, if that even was his name, red handed. Armand wasn't loyal to Belov either. He also had plans to turn on Belov, cheat him off all his money and build himself a 'cozy little castle' in some remote location in Serbia.

Joe had hardly stepped out of his room when he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, and the next thing he knew, the ground was flying at him as the blackness closed in.

* * *

**One week ago, FBI Office, New York City**

Every time Frank thought about it, he felt as if invisible claws were ripping at his chest. About two months ago his agents had found out that Joseph Gordon had disappeared. One month ago, Lt. Callahan from Defense Intelligence, who was now desperate, came to meet him. He explained to Frank how Joe was picked up because of his experienced background and because nobody would suspect him. He told him that Joe was sent to work under Belov and knowing how dangerous it could get, didn't want Frank or his father involved; and so he had intentionally lost contact with them. After going to Bangalore about two months earlier, Lt. Cdr. Joe Hardy had just disappeared. So had the man called 'Armand', another one of Belov's men, who was also last seen in Bangalore.

They say if a missing person is not found within 48 hours, chances are he's dead. It had been two months since Joe had disappeared. Frank didn't even want to think about. He had been spending every waking hour in his office, trying to find clues as to what may have happened to his brother and Joe's teammates at "Brent and Gardner" had been doing the same. So far, all they got was nothing. At least, the bomb hadn't blown. The Indian authorities had caught it. Something told Frank that his brother definitely had something to do with that.

* * *

**One week ago, David Belov's "mansion", New York **

"Bloody traitor. That-" followed by a list of expletives than even Blackbeard and his mates would find shocking, "traitor," said Belov as if he was complementing Armand. When news came from the guys he sent to Bangalore to look for Gordon and Armand that the two of them had lost the "filthy terrorist scum", the bomb, the money he could have gotten and were now missing, no amount of water on the planet could have put out the flames of anger that consumed him. He strongly believed that Armand, 'that bottom feeding mutation' * (refer AN2) of the figurative underground weapons trade, had tricked his man Gordon. It did occur to him that Gordon could be the traitor here. Yet what human part of him remained after years of corruption and immorality, believed otherwise. Such was the skill of Joe Hardy in deceiving David Belov.

Now, two months later, they were still trying to find Gordon and Armand. Presently, he was seated in his huge revolving chair, smoking cigar in his hand, facing Elena. The only thing missing was probably a fluffy white cat to pet.

"Traitors indeed." Elena agreed. She never liked that stupid blond. She believed it was all part of his plan.

"And, my dear," began Belov in a syrupy sweet voice, "have _you_ done to find them?"

"I-"

"I DON'T CARE!" bellowed Belov. "I if I don't have Armand's head on a stake within the next seven days, I'm afraid my patience will run out and it will be _your_ head, dear Elena, that will be on the stake," he said, calm again. His sudden mood swings scared Elena. She knew she had to do _something. _Or else she might as well just put a gun in her mouth and finish it. Anything was better than what Belov would do if his "patience ran out".

* * *

**One week ago, unknown location**

"They will come," gasped Joe Hardy more as a re-assurance to himself than a threat to Armand and his two mammoth henchmen.

"Who will come?" asked Armand mockingly. "You're friends from Defense Intelligence? Big brother Frankie? _No one is coming for you, you piece of shit!_" said Armand as he landed his fist square on Joe's nose. As his mouth filled with blood, his vision blurred and all the bruises on his face from old kicks and punches burned with white hot pain, in a move completely expected from the likes of Joe Hardy, he looked up and spat at Armand. It landed right on his chest. _Not bad aim for someone with a swollen black eye, _thought Joe. Infuriated by Joe's daring act, Armand aimed for his ribs and kicked. Joe Hardy lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, as each short gust of air brought with it the fire of agony into his chest.

* * *

**AN2: * thank you Crowley (Supernatural) for the bottom feeding mutation quote. And, awesome cliffhanger or what? Meera, don't say "or what". And other readers, would it kill you to review?**

**AN3: Sorry.. i had made a typo in the original chapter... fixed it now! Belov needed to pet a 'cat' not a 'car' ;p**


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